If Only
by WhiteFerrets
Summary: If only they lived in another world, a different reality, then she wouldn't have left. FIRST GEORPHNE EVER! Written for The Weird Challenge and Forbidden Love Competition on HPFC. George/Daphne Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.  
For: The Weird Challenge (_bittersweet cupcakes4_) and Forbidden Love Competition (_severus'girl-draco's angel_) at HPFC.**

**A/N: This is the first ever Georphne on this site. I checked. New OTP? Well, after Remus/Sirius of course. _bittersweet cupcakes4_ came up with the pairing, because she gave it to me for the challenge, but I put it into action.  
I managed to use two of the prompts; I just couldn't get "balloon" in. **

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Daphne made her way to McGonagall's classroom, her bag relentlessly swinging and hitting her thigh. Her strawberry blonde hair was pinned back in a bun, but strands fell loose onto her shoulders, tired after a long day of being kept up. Her uniform wasn't as neat as it has been in the morning, buttons on her shirt undone, tie lower than it had started out, socks fallen to her ankles. She couldn't care less what she looked like, though – one thing Slytherin had taught her was not to care about anything or anyone. She lived by that.

When she reached the door of the Deputy Head's room, she hesitated and made a half-hearted attempt to neaten herself up to save McGonagall's breath. She crouched and stretched a leg out, pulling the sock up to her knee. She repeated that with her other leg, and adjusted her tie as she stood up. She rapped feebly on the wooden door with her knuckles, waiting for a response.

"Come in," McGonagall's stern voice called.

Pushing down on the handle, Daphne swung the door open and stepped in. McGonagall looked up from her paperwork, glancing at the Fifth Year Slytherin over the top of her glasses.

"Ah, Miss Greengrass, you are here to serve your detention, yes?" Daphne nodded and walked further into the room, shutting the door behind her. "Lines should be sufficient today, I think. Don't give me that look, Greengrass – be thankful you weren't stuck with Umbridge. Take a seat, and I'll get you some parchment." Daphne obeyed, sitting at one of the front desks of the classroom and retrieving a quill and ink pot from her bag.

McGonagall gave her the parchment and told her what to write, leaving Daphne to scribble away while she marked homework. It looked like Daphne had a dull evening ahead of her, and she could feel herself drifting quickly. The words on the page steadily grew sloppier and less legible as the minutes passed.

Whenever her thoughts took over and she forgot to write, McGonagall would notice the lack of quill-on-parchment scratching and bring Daphne back to Earth, forcing her to stay focused. Daphne felt her eyelids grow heavy, but she kept them open, determined to see it through.

A knock on the door startled a squeak out of her, the sharp tapping slicing through the almost-silence. McGonagall didn't even raise her head as she called the person inside. A Weasley appeared, easily recognisable by his bright, ginger hair. He was fairly tall, well-built, and walked with a slouch you'd expect a teenage boy to have. Daphne decided he must be one of the twins because he looked nothing like Ron Weasley, the only Weasel in her Year, and there was no way he could be younger.

"Detention _again_, Mr Weasley?"

"We have to stop meeting like this, Professor," the boy said, theatrically putting a hand on his heart. "I wouldn't want you getting the wrong impression."

"It's a little late for wrong impressions, Weasley. Sit down and take out your quill."

"Lines? Fred's going to be so jealous of me."

"Yes," McGonagall murmured. "Where _is _that troublesome brother of yours?"

"Got stuck with Filch," Weasley – George, Daphne noted – said, grinning from ear to ear as he dropped himself into the desk next to mine. He grinned at Daphne, a random stranger serving detention with him for all he cared, and her heart fluttered. His grin was large, toothy, and heart-warming. It reached his eyes, which shined with laughter and joy, and it made her feel bubbly inside. She smiled back then looked at her parchment to distract herself, where her writing was literally just a scribble on the page.

McGonagall gave George parchment and a sentence to write, like she'd done with Daphne, before leaving him to it. Daphne didn't dare look at him again until the scratching of his quill had gone on for a while. She wished she'd worn her hair down so she could use it as a curtain, but it was too late to pull it out now. She'd draw attention to herself.

George Weasley was a handsome teenager with a strong build and obvious muscles, even beneath his school jumper. He had a sharp jaw, high cheekbones and a square chin. His brown eyes were hidden ever-so-slightly by his ginger fringe, which he flicked out of his way every few seconds. His hair hung loosely below his ears, in need of a haircut, and freckles covered his face. Daphne couldn't help but stare in awe, jaw slacked, at how utterly gorgeous he looked. Even as he worked, George had a cheeky, half-smile on his face and his eyes danced with amusement.

His quill paused, just for a moment, and Daphne's stomach fluttered as she looked quickly back at her own parchment, scared of being caught. She was a Slytherin, she couldn't get caught admiring a _blood traitor_, a Gryffindor one no less! The scratching of his quill started up again, but she didn't dare look up … not yet.

A few minutes passed before Daphne glanced at him again, but a knock on the door startled her out of her admiration. George didn't even jump. McGonagall called the person in and automatically, Daphne looked up. A tiny first year stood in the doorway, wringing his hands nervously.

"Uhm, Professor McGonagall, ma'am, Peeves is-"

"Say no more," McGonagall said, waving a hand dismissively as she raised to her feet. The kid shut up immediately. "By the time I get back, you two, I expect both sides of the parchment to be full! If you even think about leaving while I'm gone, you'll have detention every Saturday until the end of term." With that, she swiftly left the room, First Year scurrying after her.

George let out a sigh as the door closed, throwing his quill on the desk and leaning back, stretching. Daphne tried her best to ignore him, hiding him from her peripheral vision with her hand, leaning her head on it. She barely finished writing the first word before he spoke.

"So, Greengrass … what are you in here for?"

Daphne turned to face him, placing her quill down. She knew from that moment that they wouldn't do any work until McGonagall got back, and she wasn't complaining.

"I told Snape to shut up and leave Longbottom alone, so he put me in detention, but he was busy tonight, so McGonagall took me of his plate, so to speak."

George laughed, loud and boisterous. "Good on ya. He needs a good smack round the head-"

"With a bag of bricks," Daphne finished, smiling slyly.

"Aren't Slytherins meant to, like, worship him?"

Daphne snorted. "Oh, _please_, we hate him. As much as he spoils us, he's just too bloody moody. Anyway, what are _you_ doing here?"

"Threw a load of dungbombs into Umbridge's handbag. I didn't think she'd notice; it smells horrid, anyway."

Daphne giggled and shook her head. "And how did you _not _end up with Umbridge?"

"She didn't notice until McGonagall had already given me a detention for it – some Ravenclaw kid saw and dobbed on me. So, want to play Twenty Q?"

"How old are you – eleven?"

George grinned. "Of course. Now, please?"

Daphne laughed. "Fine, I'll play. Ever snogged another boy?"

George grinned. "Yup. Ever snogged another girl?"

"No. Who was the guy you snogged, when did it happen, where, and why? That all counts as one question, by the way."

"Merlin, this is like an interrogation. Oliver Wood. Last year. Gryffindor Common Room. For a dare."

Daphne smirked. "I so wish I had seen that."

"Have you ever broken a bone, and if so, what? One question."

"Yep, my foot. Favourite colour?"

"Silver. Favourite food?"

"Pasta. Biggest secret you've had to keep?"

"A friend of mine lost her virginity to someone she hates. Naming no one. Most embarrassing thing you've ever been dared to do?"

"Pole dance. What's the dirtiest thing you've ever been dared to do?"

"Give my brother head. When did this pole dancing happen?"

"A few months ago. Did you fulfil your dare?"

"No, I took the forfeit. As close as I am to Fred, I wouldn't … just … no. Thongs or knickers?"

"Thongs. Boxers or briefs?"

"Boxer briefs. What question are we on now?"

"I don't know, but let's keep going. When-"

"Wait, that wasn't my que-"

"Tough luck. When did you last tell someone you loved them, and meant it?"

"When Fred pulled Ron's trousers down last summer. It was hilarious. Ever seen male genitalia?"

"Yeah. Ever seen Granger naked?"

"Hell no. Ever seen Zabini naked?"

"Maybe," Daphne said, smiling slyly and waggling her eyebrows. "Ever fancied a Slytherin?"

"Mmhmm. Ever fancied a Gryffindor?"

"Once or twice. Ever skinny-dipped in the Black Lake?"

"Ah, what memories. Are you a virgin?"

Daphne hesitated. "Now _that_ is a bit too personal."

"What, so you can tell me you've pole danced, that you wear thongs, and that you may or may not have seen Zabini naked, yet you can't tell me whether or not you're a virgin?"

"Like I said, too personal."

"Just as personal as wearing thongs, I think. Come on, Greengrass, spill."

Daphne frowned and crossed her arms, but George just grinned at her, nudging her arm until she gave in. "Fine! Yes, I'm still a virgin."

"That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

"How about you? Are _you _a virgin?"

"Barely. I nearly went all the way once … but then she freaked out because she realised she was on her period."

Daphne couldn't help but laugh at the thought of that situation, and when her giggles died down, the two sat in silence. Daphne had never been that open before to anyone, but Weasley … he had that trusting face, even though you certainly couldn't trust a trickster like him, and just by smiling, he could make you reveal your deepest, darkest secrets. Daphne didn't know why, but she liked that.

The two watched each other, both unable to break the silence now lingering between them. Their eyes connected, and Daphne was shocked at the depth within his brown irises. They made her want to melt.

She didn't know what made him do it, not that she was complaining, but he started leaning towards her. She didn't know what made her do it, not that she was complaining, but she started leaning forward, too, closing the gap. Their lips were inches away from each other, centimetres, millimetres …

The door swung open and the teenagers jumped apart as McGonagall entered the room. She eyed them curiously, noting how neither of them had a quill in hand, and they didn't seem to be working. Daphne cursed internally; McGonagall would skin them alive for not filling their parchment.

"I sincerely hope the two of you have finished," McGonagall said, walking towards them. Daphne opened her mouth to make up an excuse as the teacher picked up her parchment, but to her surprise, it was crammed with the same sentence in her sloppy scrawl. George's, also, had been completed. As Daphne looked at George in confusion, she noticed him slipping his wand into his robes. Daphne grinned.

"Well," McGonagall began, looking surprised, "you've both successfully completed your work, it seems. Dismissed."

With quick goodbyes, they picked up their bags and quills before leaving.

"Hey, thanks for-"

But Daphne never got to finish her sentence as George had practically slammed her against the wall outside McGonagall's classroom. He leant towards her without hesitation, but his lips didn't meet hers. Instead, they brushed against her ear.

"Ever kissed a ginger kid?" he whispered.

"Ever kissed a strawberry blonde?" she retorted.

Without answering, he pressed his lips against hers without restraint, moving his mouth eagerly. She responded immediately, dropping her bag to the floor and lifting her arms around his neck. They didn't separate for a while, but eventually broke apart for air.

"You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine."

"I asked first."

"Ask me again."

"Ever kissed a ginger kid?"

"Now I have. Ever kissed a strawberry blonde?"

"Now I have," George mimicked, before leaning in for another kiss. Daphne put her fingers on his mouth to keep him away. He frowned.

"I think we should take this somewhere more private," Daphne whispered, smiling.

"Like a deserted corridor isn't private enough."

"It isn't when McGonagall is just a few seconds away." Daphne picked up her bag, linked her fingers with George and started walking, but George soon took control, leading her towards a hidden passageway he and his brother had discovered with the Marauders Map.

They'd barely got in before Daphne was pressed against the wall again, being snogged quite thoroughly by George. If, three hours ago, you had told Daphne she'd be snogging a Weasley, she would have laughed. She couldn't even remember what half of them looked like, for Merlin's sake, and had no desire to get to know any of them, let alone kiss them.

And it was true that she barely knew George, and hey, she might even regret this in the morning. She might be so ashamed, it might become her dirty little secret that not even several pints of alcohol and a game of Truth or Dare could unleash. But she didn't care; at that moment, that very second, all she could think about was George's amazing kissing skills, the way his thumbs drew circles in her palms, the way he made her feel special so easily.

But then, for some reason, it hit her. What if someone did find out? What if, more specifically, a Slytherin found out? What if Draco, or Blaise, or Theo found out? They would disown her, bother her, kill her, for doing this. Pansy would be so ashamed, Astoria wouldn't talk to her again. Merlin, and Millicent – she'd be so angry. They'd promised each other they'd never get involved with a Gryffindor.

Daphne pushed George away slightly, enough to pull his lips off of hers. He frowned in confusion and tried to push forward, but she looked away and held him back. "George, we … we can't. I barely know you. This … this isn't me. I don't just go around snogging random guys for kicks, I don't … I just … I don't know."

"Like it matters," George snorted, trying to kiss her again.

"George, stop it," she pleaded, shocked at how watery her voice sounded. "My friends … they'll kill me if they find out."

"Metaphorically speaking."

"I wouldn't be surprised if it was literal. Seriously, George-"

"Don't let them find out."

"George, stop it!" Tears filled her eyes and she sniffed, using all her strength to push him away. She stepped away from the wall, backing towards the exit. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

"Daph, come on, lighten up," George said lightly, cautiously, stepping towards her and catching hold of her wrist.

"You don't understand. You're a Gryffindor, I'm a Slytherin. We can't … we can't _do _this. We can't be together, we can't snog each other in hidden passages. We can't have _anything _to do with each other, I can't let this go any further, I just … I just … I'm sorry." By this point, the tears had spilled over, and she was crying openly. She felt the tapestry behind her, and she reached hold of it, pulling it out of the way and turning around, sprinting out of the passageway.

"Daphne!" she heard George call after her. "I'm sorry, alright? Whatever I did, I'm sorry! Slow down!" He was following her, she realised with a jolt, and she ran faster, past bewildered faces and teachers yelling at her not to run in corridors.

And then she saw it and her heart leapt, giving her an extra push. She could still hear George running after her, shouting apologies, calling her name. She burst through the door of the girls' bathroom, shutting it quickly, locking it with a spell. She stood there, pressed against the door, for a few minutes, catching her breath. There was a knocking from the other side, and she bounced back, running to the sinks.

"Daph, come on, open up! Tell me what I did wrong. Tell me, and I promise never to do it again."

Daphne wiped away her tears and, hesitantly, made her way to the door, where George was still knocking loudly. She stood there for a moment, unsure what to do, before she spoke up.

"You didn't do anything, George, I promise." He stopped knocking instantly. "We just … we can't do this, okay? I was stupid for letting it happen."

"We only kissed, Daphne, it's not a crime!"

"It is when you're an amazing kisser, and I'm an inexperienced idiot," Daphne murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing! Look, just leave me alone, okay? Pretend nothing ever happened."

"I can't do that."

"Yes, you can. Go snog someone else – someone who you won't have to hide around with."

"I don't want to snog anyone else, you idiot."

"Well, that's just tough luck, isn't it? Please, George, all I'm asking is that you go away and don't tell anyone this ever happened."

There was a moment of silence, a sigh, and a sudden movement outside the door. Daphne held her breath. "Fine." George sounded sad, and Daphne closed her eyes against the guilt. "If that's what you want, what you really want, then fine. I'll leave you alone. I'm sorry."

A few moments of silence passed before Daphne heard footsteps, fading away. She let out the breath she'd been holding, opened her eyes, and slid down the door, curling in a ball at the bottom.

And she waited. Waited until she was sure George could be no where near the bathroom any more, that he was truly out of her way, before she even considered leaving. She splashed her face with water, ran her hands through her hair, and loosened her tie, before returning to the door and unlocking it.

Daphne stopped still, the door open beside her, at the sight of a flower and a note on the floor. Her stomach fluttered as she crouched down to inspect it. When she touched the flower, a daisy, it disappeared. She frowned in confusion but, moments later, she felt something appear behind her ear. Pre-preparing an object to move was a clever piece of magic, and Daphne couldn't help but wonder in awe at George's intelligence as she touched the flower in her hair.

She picked up the note, afraid at what she'd read, scared it would make her run back to him at the speed of light.

_A beautiful flower for a beautiful girl. Look after yourself, Daphne. I'm sorry._

_GW x_

The tears she'd fought so hard to stop were instantly pouring down her cheeks again, and through her sobs, she struggled to get to her feet. She ran blindly in the general direction of the Slytherin common room, knowing the route like the back of her hand by now. She screamed the password at the portrait, bursting through and running along the chamber, ignoring the worried calls from her friends. She sprinted up the stairs, into her dorm and flung herself on her bed. Grabbing her wand blindly, she locked the door with several defensive charms she'd learned from reading in the library, before moving a chest of drawers across it for extra protection. With a flick of her wand, all windows were covered, and the curtains around her bed were closed, sound-proofed, and protected.

She sobbed and she sobbed, for herself, for George, for what could have happened. She screamed, angry at herself, at Slytherin, at their expectations. She cried, yearning for George, for his kisses, for everyone's acceptance. She slammed her fists against her pillow, hating herself for giving in, for leading George on, then pushing him away, for breaking both their hearts.

She barely knew him, but she wanted him. She knew she couldn't have him, but that made her want him even more. She knew her friends and family were more important, but that didn't make her care for him any less. She knew she had to live up to Slytherin expectations, but that made her want to rebel and ask George if he'd give her another chance.

If only they lived in another world, a different reality, where House Unity was at large and being with Gryffindors was encouraged. If only Daphne didn't have so many expectations to live up to. If only she was strong enough to rebel, to be carefree. If only she hadn't blown the one chance she'd had.

But this was the world in which she could be disowned for merely laughing with a Gryffindor, let alone kissing one, or being with one. This was the world where all teenagers had expectations to live up to, where some had the courage to rebel and others didn't. This was the world where she was a Slytherin, a coward, a goody-two-shoes.

Still, as she sobbed her heart out into her pillow, Daphne couldn't help but wonder _if only.

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_**A/N: Will I be writing more Georphne in the future? Psht, of course! I already have some planned.**

**Reviews are muchly appreciated!  
**


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